


The Bull Pen

by Ellis_Sullivan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, Gym AU, M/M, Multi, and sugar sweet, because im gross, this is fucking ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 04:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9641462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellis_Sullivan/pseuds/Ellis_Sullivan
Summary: The first time Dorian went to The Bull Pen—by far the worst name in all of Thedas—it was due to the amazing reviews its hot yoga classes had garnered on yelp.The second time he went to the gym, it was stress-related. (As much as he loathed to admit it, Vivienne was good.)The fifth time he went might have had something to do with the evening crowd and the easy acceptance that came with them.But the Iron Bull definitely had (next to) nothing to do with his continued patronage.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off of a tumblr post i saw 800 years ago and now cannot find because im the worst.

The first time Dorian went to _The Bull Pen_ —by far the worst name in all of Thedas—it was due to the amazing reviews its hot yoga classes had garnered on yelp. (After all, it’s not often more than five southerners describe downward dog as a religious experience. Really, it’s not that often southerners agree on much more than Andraste’s sainthood and the necessity of dark and bitter ale.)

So, yoga mat in hand, he made his way to the gym a scant block away from his new apartment to sign up for his free trial month to see if this Vivienne could stand up to the classes he had taken back home. The door chimed as he walked, causing the attendant to raise his head from his phone and give Dorian an easy going wave.

“Hey, mate. Haven’t seen you around here before. Come to give us a go? Best gym in all of Thedas, right here,” he said, pushing a clipboard toward the other man.

“Well, you certainly sound sure of it, don’t you?” he replied slowly, glancing over the proffered paperwork. “Then again, you are extremely biased.”

The young man laughed. “True enough, but no other gym in Skyhold has the retention rates we do. A good 80% of our newcomers end up buying memberships. And besides, you won’t find better prices.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow, but filled out the papers anyway. The other man glanced over them quickly before coming out from behind the desk. “Right. Suppose you’d like the tour, then?” he asked.

“It wouldn’t do to get lost on the first day, now, would it?” Dorian said.

His tour guide grinned. “Oh, you best watch out. The Chief’ll love you.”

Dorian opened his mouth.

“—No, no,” the man interrupted. “I’ll let you find out yourself. He’ll give me shit for the rest of the week if I spoil his fun.”

“I do so hate suspense, and yet it seems to follow me wherever I go,” Dorian remarked idly, following the other around the corner and into the main room.

“Place is pretty straightforward—you’ve got your ellipticals and treadmills over here, free weights over there, and the glass room’s where you’ll find the Vivienne and her yoga class. The other stuff we offer-- Zumba, Pilates and the rest of that—is right up the stairs. Varric, you might’ve seen him around—short, ginger, fan of deep v’s— does an 80’s workout video class every other Friday and that can be a bit of fun if you just need a good dance. Locker rooms are down the hall and to the left,” he said, indicating the hall. “And the Chief’s pride and joy is the ring, right smack dab in the middle of the room. Try not to let him convince you to fight him. He’d eat you alive.”

Dorian opened his mouth once more.

“Nope. That’s all I’m saying,” the employee replied, cutting him off. “I’m Krem. Let me know if you have any more questions.”

“Hot yoga—” Dorian started.

“—starts at 8:30 and goes until about 9:45. You’ve got a bit of time if you want to look around. I’ll be at the desk,” Krem interrupted before ambling back around the corner.

Dorian glanced down at his watch.

_8:03 PM._

He hummed and started toward the locker rooms. He could change, explore, and maybe even squeeze in a quick warm up. A few people were scattered here and there, mostly taking advantage of the abundance of high tech treadmills that littered the room. Two people, a blonde man and a dark haired woman, were taking turns with an obviously well-loved punching bag that hung in a dusty corner. The woman made a noise of disgust every time the blonde made a bad shot, but oddly enough, it just served to make him smile.

In another part of the room, a young, dark-haired woman was writing a letter as she biked at a pace so furious, Dorian was slightly worried the machine might actually begin to move across the room. A pale slip of a boy was planking as he observed the room and its occupants. A woman with no hand did one-armed push-ups next to him.

 _Odd bunch,_ Dorian thought. _I should fit right in._

Just as he was about to slip into the changing room, however, something else caught his attention.

A truly gargantuan man—

_Dear sweet Maker, he’s 6’7” at the very least!_

—stood by the free weights. Sweat glistened on his well-muscled back, some of it beading and sliding slowly down the line of his spine and into his low riding sweatpants. Two tattoos a few shades darker than his skin covered his shoulders and curled around his (enormous) biceps. His oil black hair was gathered into a tiny bun—

_I’ve always liked something to hold onto in the throes of an orgasm…_

_—_ on the top of his head. A few tendrils had escaped the pink hair tie and curled at the base of his neck, and Dorian could just see the strong line of his jaw and the barest hint of 5 o’clock shadow.

Then, the giant bent down—his ass proving that yes, indeed, there was such a thing as perfection—to pick up a daunting amount of weight that would give even a professional trouble.

_That must weigh as much as me. More, probably._

With the slightest grunt he lifted them with ease.

Dorian’s mouth went dry.

The ox/man set the weights down and turned to face Dorian, grabbing a nearby water bottle and drinking slowly. Dorian was pleased to note that the tattoos continued on this side as well. He was missing an eye, but instead of being unsettling, it only served to make the other pop even more. It was the color of the sea after a storm—a kind of green Dorian had thought he would only see in nature.

He snapped out of his reverie, however, when the man’s gaze fell on him. Something like surprise flitted over his features before it settled into a knowing smirk as he took the bottle away from his lips. Then slowly, his eye closed and opened almost as quickly.

“Like what you see?” he asked, his voice low and rough and _perfect._

Dorian gaped.

“Are you— I’m sorry, did you just try to _wink_ at me?” he spluttered.

“It isn’t trying if it worked,” the other pointed out.

“You have _one eye._ You can’t wink with one eye!”

The man let out a full belly laugh before settling into a grin that made Dorian’s cheeks go hot and ears turn pink.

“You’ve got spark. I like that,” he said, still smiling. “I’m the Iron Bull. I own the place.”

“I’m— I am going to be late for yoga,” Dorian said, and made his daring escape into the locker room.

“I’ll be here if Vivienne isn’t enough to satisfy you!” the Iron Bull called after him.

“This is why we can’t have nice things, Chief!” Dorian heard Krem shout from the front desk as he disappeared into the changing rooms. The Iron Bull just laughed.

~*~

The second time he went to the gym, it was stress-related. As much as he _loathed_ to admit it, Vivienne was good. Tevinter, of course, had nothing less than spectacular classes that left him well-stretched, but Vivienne was good in a soul-purifying, muscle melting, fucking _terrifying_ kind of way, and she knew it. Dorian had begun hot yoga feeling as though he was one living, breathing knot of tension. But as the session wrapped up, Dorian found himself feeling as though his spine had turned to taffy.

(And so what if he had felt the Iron Bull’s gaze land on him through the clear panes of glass, hot and heavy and _good?_ And if Dorian arched his back a bit more when [ cat and cow ](http://www.backpaininfo.co/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/cat-cow.jpeg) rolled around, allowing his ass to do the talking for him and smothering a laugh at the enthusiastic thumbs up he got in return, then that was his business, wasn’t it?)

With a final happy sigh, he drew himself out of [ child’s pose ](http://media4.popsugar-assets.com/files/2013/01/03/1/192/1922729/88d7fc54785092bd_1-Child_s-Pose/i/Child-Pose.jpg).

Vivienne stopped him on his way out the door.

“Where have you taken classes before, darling?” she asked him with a quirk of her brow. “It’s been some time since I’ve seen such a fine, easy [ King Cobra ](http://assets5.tribesports.com/system/challenges/images/000/020/664/original/20120615122647-do-the-king-cobra-pose.jpg).”

“I took yoga classes regularly back home,” Dorian replied. “I haven’t been put through my paces like that since coming to the south. I’m glad to see it’s not all snow and beer.”

Vivienne’s lips quirked up a bit as she gave him a once over. “My dear boy, the south is good for many things, but that list certainly doesn’t include beer,” she said slowly. “Class is every other day. I’ll be _much_ harder to impress next time.”

Fifteen minutes later, Dorian sauntered by the front desk, freshly showered, stretched, and supremely satisfied.

“So, will we be seeing you again soon?” Krem asked with a knowing look. Dorian stopped in the doorway and looked over his shoulder with a grin.

“You won’t ever be rid of me now,” he replied. “Besides, how could I miss out on the best gym in Thedas?”

~*~

The fifth time he went might have had something to do with the evening crowd and the easy acceptance and banter that came with them. They would roll in one after another and go about their business. Krem would greet him at the door.

(“Welcome back, Dorian! Ready to sign up for a membership yet?” he’d ask with a shit-eating grin. “The Chief’s been checking the list more frequently than usual.”

Dorian cleared his throat. “Yes, well, the month’s not up yet, now, is it? I’m going to get my money’s worth before I settle for just any old gym,” he replied as he breezed by.

“Riiiiiiiiight,” Krem said.)

Cassandra and Cullen would immediately set about beating the punching bags to the point of no return, joined occasionally by Thom “Blackwall” Rainier.

(“That was terrible and you know it. Again,” Cassandra said with a frown.

“He’s a bit new to this, Cassandra, don’t completely discourage him,” Cullen replied, offering Dorian a small rueful smile. “But she was right, that was a bit shite.”

Dorian snorted and tapped the bag lightly in retaliation. “I think I’ll leave this particular exercise to the professionals,” he told them as he removed the borrowed gloves.

“Seems he’s much better at dodging,” Blackwall commented before lunging at the punching bag once more.

Cassandra snorted and Cullen grinned a bit bigger.

Josie would bike and write, occasionally joined by her scary friend who was probably a spy for Orlais or, more likely, a supervillain.

(“Contracts, press releases, offers of employment, the works,” she told him later. “I run my own company, and I like to do things myself, but it definitely helps to have something else to channel my aggression into. Otherwise I’d probably break a few pencils a night. Orlesians can be so…” She flailed a hand. “You know?”

He knew.

“I swear, Josie, you’d bring paperwork into the shower with you if it didn’t dissolve,” Leliana teased as she wiped her brow.

“I could always have things laminated, Leliana,” Josie replied, biking harder. “Now, tell me if this sounds like a kind way to say, listen up, you imbecile…” )

Adaar--“Call me Una for fuck’s sake, Dorian, we’re not in middle school gym class!”-- did push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, and anything else that allowed her girlfriend to help her keep count of her reps.

(“That’s it, tadwinks, almost got a hundred under your belt,” Sera crowed as sweat dripped off the bridge of Adaar’s nose and plinked against the mat. “Maybe fifty. Seventy? Eh, more’n Dorian’s got, anyhow.”

Adaar snorted and glanced over at Dorian, collapsed on the mat after 35 reps. “That wasn’t too much of a challenge, dear,” she replied. “If we had wanted a real competition, we should have gotten the Bull out here. Dorian could’ve sat on his back while you sat on mine.” Sera cackled.

“I don’t know why I like either of you,” Dorian said without lifting his head.

Adaar shushed him good naturedly and Sera’s laughter descended into full blown snorts.)

Cole watched and occasionally held a plank position for a good 5 minutes.

(“Fingers clenching, gasping for breath. Relax, she says. Muscles spasm and finally something clicks. Relax. Relax. Relaxed.”

Dorian lifted an eyebrow. “You were watching yoga again, were you?”

Cole nodded solemnly.

“I like the twisty parts. They make you feel freer.”)

Varric ran.

(“Oh, come on, Sparkler. You didn’t think that dancing was the only way I blew off steam, did you?” he chuckled as he wiped down his treadmill, a novel tucked under his arm.

“Can you blame me for wanting to believe it?” Dorian replied. “Best-Selling author Varric Tethras dances in a purple leotard to stay in shape and beat his writer’s block. I can see the headlines now.”

Varric laughed, and Dorian’s eyes fell on the book he carried.

“So, what is it this week?” he asked. “Dragons? Intrigue? Romance?”

“Try all three with nice dose of historically inaccurate speech,” Varric replied. “The main guy writes a love poem in verse-- or, you know, something vaguely resembling it-- and then everything goes to shit because he’s given it to the wrong girl, yada yada yada, and so on and so forth.”

“Not as good as yours, then.”

Varric winked.

“Sparkler, no one’s as good as I am.”)

And Bull… Bull lifts and squats and punches and runs. But most importantly, Bull _wrestles._

(The Bull circled Blackwall like a predator, sweat dripping down his face and continuing its path down his chest and stomach. He quirked a brow at the other man, reckless grin a near constant thing when he’s in the ring. Not that Dorian watched him often. In fact, he made a point not to, reading and idly pedaling on one of the bikes as the barbarism continued.

“C’mon, Blackwall, let all that anger out,” Bull goaded, opening his arms wide and leaving himself open. The other narrowed his eyes and charged with a roar.

Bull was knocked back a bit, grunting with the force of the charge. The two grappled with each other, pretty evenly matched until Bull somehow managed to sweep his foot _under_ Blackwall’s, causing the man to fall back onto the ground with a thud. Bull followed him, ruthlessly pinning him to the floor.

There was a moment of silence before Bull sat back on Blackwall’s legs with a grin.

“I win again! Krem, mark me down as undefeated champion of the ring!” Bull roared triumphantly.

“You cheated, you bloody bastard,” Blackwall replied, shoving the other man off his legs. But he was smiling, so Dorian guessed he wasn’t always an ornery lummox.

“Bet your ass,” Bull laughed as he got to his feet, giving Blackwall a conciliatory clap on the back before hopping out of the ring. His gaze flitted over the room until locking on Dorian.

The man in question averted his gaze almost immediately, turning back to the book he hadn’t been reading as Bull sauntered over to his bike.

“Did you catch the match, Dorian?” he asked, towering over the other man as he leaned against the equipment in use.

“The what?” Dorian replied, not looking up from his novel. “I assume you and some other sweaty brute were rolling around in the glorified pig pen once again. It is a Wednesday, after all.”

Bull chuckled softly.

“No need to sound so jealous, there, big guy,” he said.

Dorian laughed. “Me? Jealous? You can flop around on that floor and contract ringworm all you like, Bull. It _certainly_ doesn’t make me jealous.”

Bull leaned closer.“I’m just saying, Dorian, I’d be happy to wrestle you down to the ground and pin you anytime you like,” he said nonchalantly. “I don’t think it’d take long to get your hands over your head and have you spread below me, baring that pretty neck of yours.”

Dorian refused to look up from his book, his heart pounding in his chest.

“It’d take some time, believe me,” he replied smoothly. “Don’t think I’m that easy.”

The other man laughed and shook his head. “Oh, you are _far_ from easy, big guy,” he said, moving away from the machine at last. “Oh, and Dorian?”

Dorian rolled his eyes as he snapped his book shut. “What, Bull?”

Bull regarded him with an eye full of mirth. “Nothing. You’ve stopped biking is all.”

“ _Vishante Kaffas_.”)

And so Dorian somehow found himself absorbed into this tight knit community of strange and wonderful people, invited to game night and movie night and watch-Josephine-drink-everyone-under-the-table night, all the while playing a delicious game of cat and mouse with the Iron Bull.

~*~

The fifteenth time Dorian went to the gym was to shower. Or, at least, that’s what he told himself. And maybe he took an extra fifteen minutes changing out of his sweaty clothes, and perhaps an extra thirty showering until the last person had exited the gym. And if he forgot his gym bag in the yoga room, who could blame him for a slight lapse in memory?

And so what if Dorian exited the locker in the smallest towel he owned, knotted tight around his waist and exposing a good slice of his right thigh? It wasn’t as though he had planned it.

He allowed himself a moment to watch the Iron Bull as he wiped down the mat in the ring before speaking.

“Mopping up the sweat and blood of your latest victim?” he asked. “At least you didn’t leave poor Krem to clean up after your mess. He’s been through enough trauma. The last thing he needs is to be scrubbing floors on his hands and knees like a poor, forlorn servant girl.”

The Bull looked up, the grin on his face quickly replaced by a look of such want that it took Dorian’s breath away.

“Oh, you little shit,” Iron Bull growled,  climbing out of the ring and advancing on Dorian slowly. “You had this all planned, didn’t you? I bet you picked that towel intentionally.”

He stalked closer and closer until Dorian had no choice but to begin backing away.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dorian replied as his back hit the glass window of the yoga room. “I simply forgot my bag outside.”

“The expensive one that never leaves your side?” Bull countered, staring at him unflinchingly. “Unlikely.”

“Yes, well,” Dorian breathed, eyes darting down to admire the Bull’s stomach, chest, lips. “That’s me. I do love to surprise.”

Bull chuckled and lifted a big hand to cup Dorian’s cheek tenderly.

“Little shit,” he repeated fondly. “I’m gonna to kiss you, just so you know.”

“Well, yes, I had hoped you’d read between the lines and see the towel for what it truly was--”

Bull surged forward, kissing Dorian soundly as his fingers threaded themselves in his thick hair. Dorian’s mouth opened in a gasp as Bull gave his hair a sharp tug that sent a bolt of heat through him. Their tongues met, and Dorian’s hands gripped the other’s biceps as though they were a lifeline.

He broke their kiss, turning his head aside to catch his breath.

“It seems you received the message,” Dorian remarked after a moment. Bull huffed a laugh, leaning his forehead against the cool glass of the wall.

“Oh, loud and clear, big guy,” Bull replied with a grin before pushing away from the wall reluctantly. “So here’s my plan for the night. You’re going to grab your bag and get dressed so I can offer to walk you outside, and then offer to take you to the Herald’s Rest for dinner and drinks, and _then_ offer to fuck you so hard you forget your own name.”

Dorian swallowed thickly, cheeks flushed.

“I must say, this isn’t where I thought my seduction might lead,” he admitted after a moment. Bull snorted, smoothing a thumb over Dorian’s cheek.

“Well, if the past month’s been any indication, I think we could be good together,” he replied. “You wanna find out?”

Dorian looked at him for a moment and sighed.

“Maker help me, I do,” he said. “Though who knows why? You’re a brute. You can’t wink, you’re barely flexible enough to touch your toes, and the fact that you _wrestle_ is something I struggle to wrap my head around on a daily basis.”

The Iron Bull laughed, his eyes warm.

“Give me a chance to win your over,” he said softly. “I’m sure there’s something you like about me.”

“Well, if it will stop you from begging,” Dorian said nonchalantly, though the warmth in his tone betrayed any notion of indifference. “Besides, I suppose I could do worse than you. I may even get a discount out of it.”

“Does this mean you’ll finally sign up for a gym membership?” Bull asked with an eyebrow raised. “ 

“Bull, please,” Dorian snorted. “That’s a commitment you’ll _really_ have to work for. Buy me dinner first.”


End file.
